Dreams
by NewYorkNewYorkGirl
Summary: DillonGeorgieSpinelli . . . Spoilers for the TMK storyline. This is how I wish things had happened it has been great drama, but I'm a shipper, and a romantic at heart, so I wish things had turned out differently. Please read and review!


This is my first attempt at a General Hospital fic. I loved the old days of Dillon and Georgie, and now with Scott gone and Lindze's character murdered, I felt like writing. If the story has some interest, I will continue it. So, without further ado, here it is! J

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Scott never would've left and Dillon and Georgie would be making their way back to one another. If he did leave, I would've had Georgie ride off into the sunset with him . . .

Dillon paced back and forth in the studio, anxiously awaiting Georgie to return his phone call. He'd been a wreck since having spoken with his mother. He'd called for an update on Luke, concerned about his step fathers health. Not only was Luke not doing better, but his mother had told him rather cooly that Georgie had saved her sisters life by walking in on the apparent Serial Murderer. Relief had flooded his body when she's assured him that Georgie was unharmed, and that Maxie would make a full recovery. Understandly, they both shaken up by the ordeal. But he still needed to hear her voice. To believe it.

Some of the others who were working on Principal Photography with Dillon were just as anxious as he was for the call to be returned. For a few, it was because they had actually gotten to know Dillon, had had found out a lot about Georgie, the woman he was concerned about. And obviously, still in love with. And for the others, it was more or less because they just wanted him to stop being a distraction.

When his phone rang to the tune of Rascal Flatts "Bless the Broken Road", he lunged for it suddenly, knocking over a neat stack of papers on the table. Two of the men in the room shot Dillon a dirty look, and cursed openly.

"Georgie?" he breathed heavily into the phone, his own heart constricting, and tears threatening to spill over his eyes onto his cheeks. He needed to hear her voice.

"Hey," she tried to greet him cheerfully, her own eyes pooling with tears at the sound of his voice. She still loved him, but was trying to move on. He had. Being just his friend was hard enough after everything they'd been through. But him not being in her life at all . . . that was just too much for her to even think about.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly, walking outside onto the balcony of the cold Montreal air. The snow was covered in a dusting of snow, and Holiday cheer was all around. But he didn't feel joyful. He was miserable.

"I'm good," she lied, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms.

"Georgie," he drew out, proving to her once again just how well he knew her. He didn't have to be standing in front of her to know when she was lying. "I know what happened. I talked to my mom earlier tonight."

"Boy, news sure travels fast around here, doesn't it?" she let out a bitter laugh, a tear escaping her eye. "Gotta love small towns."

It wasn't so much that Port Charles was even a small town. It had grown a lot in the last couple of decades. The skyscrapers that littered the once rural landscape told the residents, and tourists, that it was an up-and-coming bustling city. No, it wasn't that it was small at all. It was that the cities oldest families knew each other well. And somehow, their lives all connected. In a weird way, they were family. A large, dysfunctional family. Whether they were blood related, or related by marriage, or even honorarily, they were all bound together . . . like it or not.

She heard him sigh on the other end of the phone, not really sure how far to push the subject. And she hated that. Not long ago, he would've been pressing her to just tell him all her troubles so he could soothe them away. But life had gotten in the way of their connection. Things happened, and they grew apart. And she hated that too. But she was a firm believer that everything happened for a reason. And that even if it didn't make sense, she was right where she was supposed to be in that moment. And that her future would play out just as it was supposed too . . . but in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be looking into his eyes, to have him take her in his arms and kiss her troubles away. Instead, she was faced with the thought that her sister was being targeted by a killer. And that the killer was the man that was supposed to love her.

Dillon could hear the muffled voices over the cell phone. One which he knew to be Georgie's. Another voice he heard and believed was Mike's. There were a couple of voices he'd never heard before mixed in. And then, he heard the sound of a metal closing.

"Georgie?"

"I'm here," she sniffled. "Sorry. I just needed some privacy. And air."

"Where are you?" he asked, immediately concerned. If she were somewhere alone, with a serial killer roaming the streets, she couldn't be safe.

"Don't worry," she told him quietly, wiping away a few stray tears. "I'm in the back alley behind Kelly's. The door is propped open and I have a clear view of everything around me."

"It's not safe for you by yourself," he chided her.

"Look Dillon, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself!" she snapped. And immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's been really hard around here lately."

He nodded his head in agreement, although she couldn't see him. "I can imagine." The loss of Emily was still fresh and he was still reeling. She was so young and vibrant. Her whole life ahead of her. "I just . . . I've been worried about you."

"You have?" she asked quietly.

Once again, he nodded. "I've been worried about all of you." He shut his eyes tightly, his brain screaming at him that he was a coward. Why couldn't he just let her know that she still held a very special place in his heart? "There is a crazy guy running around killing women. I don't think I can loose anyone else that I care about. And that includes you."

She felt silly. For a minute, she thought that he was saying that he was specifically worried about loosing her. Like if he did, his whole world would crumble. And in a selfish way, she wished that had been what he meant.

He sighed. Inwardly, he was yelling at himself, saying that he was a coward. True, he was concerned about everyone back home. But Georgie was the one he was most concerned about. She was far too caring a person. She'd give a stranger the shirt off her back if it meant a homeless person wouldn't go cold. And it was one of the reasons why he loved her so much . . . people like Georgie were becoming rarer by the day.

She then asked about how Principal Photography on the project was coming along and she could hear the tone of his voice shift to a lighter place. She was the only one, aside from the others in the department, to which he could share his enthusiasm with. No one else got it. But Georgie did. She listened, and contributed sound bytes to the conversation. Smiling and laughing when he told her something particularly interesting that had caught his attention, or made him laugh.

Time like these, she couldn't really figure out where they'd started to loose their footing on solid ground. They were in tune with one another. Even if it started out awkward, they soon found their groove and they just fit . . .

She closed her eyes tightly to keep more tears at bay. When she reopened them, she saw Spinelli walking up towards the diner, lost in thought, headed towards the establishment at a leisurely pace. Listening to Dillon's voice as he spoke softly but excitedly, she couldn't help but feel guilty. She loved two men. She knew that the reason why Spinelli appealed to her so much was because he was safe. He was not someone who would hurt her. At least, not intentionally. He was somewhat aloof, and definitely weird. But it was a good weird.

In that moment, she realized that the reason she'd started to see Spinelli in a more romantic light was because he reminded her so much of Dillon when he'd first come to town. Full of goofy ideas, and big dreams - even if they did seem out of this world to everyone else. He wasn't afraid to be different. He embraced it. And she hoped that he never changed. Dillon had. But it more so because he had felt an obligation too.

He'd made some bad decisions. Including believing Lulu's lie about having seen her having sex with Diego, which caused her husband to sleep with the bubbly blond. She'd forgiven Lulu long ago for it. But it still hurt when she thought about it. She'd even managed to swallow her pride despite her husband's having conceived a child with the woman who tried to steal him away. She was there to support the both of them, never judging, just listening. Even though it had broken her heart inside. And crushed her spirit. Dillon had decided that he needed to take responsibility and raise his child. Not that she'd ever had any doubt. But he'd given up his dreams of being a producer in favor or a position at the family company. A job that made him miserable. Even after Lulu's abortion, his whole vision of life had changed so dramatically. Not that she didn't expect that either. But he was finally getting back to that person that she fell in love with. The person that he always had been deep down . . . and now that they were becoming better and better friends again, getting past it all, she knew she was falling in love with him all over again . . . and she was confused.

Spinelli was there. He was safe. He was a clean slate. A fresh start. A wonderful guy that she considered to be one of her best friends. A person that she loved, even if he didn't know it. She could tell Spinelli anything and could count on him to be there for her. And she did.

Dillon wasn't there. He was in Canada. And he wasn't safe. He'd already broken her heart. More than once. But he was still her first love. And she never truly got over that. He was also one of her best friends. She could tell Dillon anything and could count on him to be there for her. And she did.

"You would love it here, Georgie, I'm telling you," he smiled. "The streets. The charm. It's like a little slice of Europe, but it's Canada! Canada!"

She giggled at his excitement.

"I'm sure I would love it," she concluded. "I've read about how romantic it is. And I've seen pictures. I bet with the snow at this time of year, everything just comes alive."

He nodded. "And some of the places are so eccentric. Your the only person I know who would truly appreciate this for what it is. There is a church a couple of blocks from here with the most amazing stained glass windows. The history. The architecture. Just amazing."

"Yeah," she agreed half heartedly.

Dillon allowed a half smile to cross his features. "I'm sorry. You've just been through this whole ordeal and I'm making this into a Tourism Quebec conversation."

She chuckled softly. "No, don't be sorry. I love hearing you talk like this. It wasn't all that long ago when I thought you wouldn't go after your dreams. Besides, hearing all about Montreal was a nice escape. I was able to forget about this Text Message Killer for a few minutes. Concentrate on something that wasn't terrifying."

"You know," he said, "I could come back home, and we could-"

"No," she cut him off abruptly. "You have your dream job, Dillon. You're working your way up and I don't want you to walk out on something this big just to come hold my hand. I'm fine. Maxie is fine. Dad and the PCPD are working on finding this guy. And don't tell Mac that I said this, but I'm pretty sure that Jason and Sonny are working on some leads . . . It'll be over soon." She decided to leave out her own suspcions about Cooper for the time being. If he knew what she feared, he'd be on his back in a split second. But there was no proof yet, and Dillon was living his own life. Besides, there was nothing he could do about it . . .

"Well, if you need me, just know I'll be there in a heartbeat."

She smiled, tears pooling in her eyes once again. Didn't he know how hard he was making it for her to fall-out of love with him and move on with her life? That was something she'd been trying to do for so long . . . and there was no doubt in her mind that his career would be very successful and he wouldn't be returning home to PC any time soon for much more than holidays and reunions . . .

"I know. Thank you."

"Call me, OK? Day or night."

"I will," she assured him. "I have to get back inside. Sounds like it's getting busy," she told him. She was on the verge of a total melt down. She didn't know if it was because of the attack on Maxie, Emily's murder, the Black and White ball mayhem, or talking with Dillon - or even a combination of everything, but she was an emtional wreck.

"Oh, OK," he said kind of disappointed that their conversation was coming to an end only minutes after it had started. He had been relieved to hear her voice and didn't want to stop talking because that would mean that he would know what was going on in an up-to-the-minute account. He didn't want to admit it, but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like something back was going to happen. "Georgie?"

"Yeah?" she asked softly, furiously wiping at the tears.

"Take care of yourself, OK?" he pleaded with her.

"I will. You too. Bye Dillon," she hung up quickly.

The dial tone that had fallen upon his ears left him with an icy chill running up his spine. "Bye Georgie. I love you." He pocketed his cell phone and returned inside, forcing himself to delve back into his work and not stop until it was complete. He wanted his friends and family to be proud of him when the movie was released. He already had plans to whisk Georgie off to the premiere - though he wasn't quite sure where that would be. The movie had just been given the green light for a large audience market, meaning mass theater release. Undoubtedly the premiere would be a major event, filled with media. And he wanted her to be on his arm, beaming at him proudly. Even if he wasn't at the forefront taking credit, he just couldn't want to see the look on Georgie's face. Without her, he never would've had the courage to even dream of persuing the path that he was on.

She took a minute to compose herself before walking back into the diner. Spinelli sat at the counter drinking an orange soda, while Coop and Maxie sat huddled at a table, his arm draped around her possessively. Logan sat opposite them. Though her sister wasn't too pleased with the second man at the table, she had no interest in that moment at running him off. She was too spent from the ordeal of the day.

She picked up the coffee pot to make a fresh batch, keeping close watch on Coop out of the corner of her eye . . . but never truly realizing just how close she truly was to the murderer . . .

TBC . . . .


End file.
